


Fade

by esperink



Category: jacksepticeye, septicegos - Fandom
Genre: Anger, Angst, Character Death, Crying, Existentialism, Gen, How Do I Tag, Marvin/Jackie isn't a big thing, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Sad, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, fading, i actually cry while writing this, would these count as character deaths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-01-29 04:06:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12622808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esperink/pseuds/esperink
Summary: What happens when egos don't get attention? Well, they start to Fade.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This hypothetically takes place after Jack quits Youtube.

“No, you’re right, I don’t get it,” Marvin said with a sigh, looking up at the superhero from his spot on the bed.

Jackieboy man only crossed his arms across his chest. “It’s just – it’s not dangerous. I’m perfectly safe.”

“Nothing is safe near a plane, Jackie.” Marvin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can’t you show off somewhere else? Plus, didn’t you say you weren’t feeling well?”

Jackieboy man put his hands on his hips in a heroic pose. “Sickness doesn’t stop me!” he said, a little too excitedly, clearly not listening to Marvin.

“Fine, if you want to put yourself in danger like that, be my guest,” Marvin snapped, getting up and leaving the room.

Jackieboy man frowned. He hadn’t really meant for the other to get so irritated. He just didn’t see what the big deal was. He would be okay, definitely. So what if he wasn’t feeling his best?

Though he couldn’t help but feel slightly bad for causing Marvin to storm out of the room. The magician cared for him, of course, so it was somewhat understandable for him to be worried. But Jackieboy wasn’t worried. He was pretty sure everything would go according to plan.

Jackieboy man was correct. He knew he was going to be fine, and he almost wanted to say, “I told you so!”, but he figured the magician wouldn’t take too kindly to that. So instead when he came home he found him in the bedroom and sat next to him.

“Sorry,” Jackieboy man said finally, breaking the silence.

Marvin didn’t respond for a few moments. “I’m glad you’re okay, at least,” he eventually said. His mask had been pushed up in his stress, rubbing his eyes vigorously.

“I'll make it up to you!” Jackieboy man offered. “I’ll take you to… to a really cool place! And we can watch a magic show!”

Marvin huffed softly, and turned to face the other. He couldn’t help but smile at the other’s hopeful expression, despite being upset just moments before. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess we can do that.”

Jackieboy jumped up again, seeming pleased. “Cool! We can go… we can go..” He furrowed his brow and looked at the calendar hanging on the wall. “We can go Saturday. It’ll give us time to find a place to go.” Suddenly he started to cough.

Marvin sat up quickly, steadying himself for a moment, before checking on Jackieboy man, concerned. “Maybe you should rest instead,” he said. “We can go another time.”

“Are you sure?” Jackieboy man asked, eyes wide behind the blue mask. He had wanted to make it up to Marvin, not detract away from that.

“Yes… I’m sure.” Marvin stood. “I’m going to go make some soup, okay?” He laid a hand on Jackieboy man’s shoulder, to soothe the coughing with some magic, but he knew magic wasn’t going to make being sick go away. It was a nice replacement for medicine, for pain, though.

Jackieboy finally nodded and moved to lay down. Marvin gave him a half hug before leaving to go make the soup.

Marvin spent a few days trying to nurse Jackieboy man back to health, but it didn’t seem to be working. He decided to try to find a spell, since the normal things weren’t working. This caused him to spend a few days away, in the library, to find the perfect one. He hoped that Jackieboy could take care of himself while he was away.

“Jackie!” Marvin said, running into their room. “I think I’ve found the perfect –” He stopped and stood when he noticed the hero was nowhere to be found. He approached the bed, where he had seen him last, and found only the blue mask. He bit his lip, and went to ask the others if they’d seen him.

Chase hadn’t seen him, and neither had Jack. He even considered asking Anti, but Henrik told him that Anti hadn’t been around for a week or so.

“I need to make sure Jackie’s okay,” Marvin said. He held the blue mask in his hands. The mask caught the good doctor’s attention, since everyone knew that the hero preferred to keep the mask on. Henrik asked to see it, so Marvin handed it over, and the doctor looked closely at it.

He looked uneasy as he traced the green at the edges, shown on the inside of the mask. The green hadn’t been there before. “I think I know what happened,” he said softly, and Marvin feared for the worst. “We won’t be seeing him again.”

“What? Why not?” Marvin demanded, feeling worried and fearful. “I can’t – I can’t lose him!”

“I’m sorry, Marvin,” Henrik replied. “Have you heard of… Fading?”

Marvin had heard the term a few times before, but it hadn’t been brought up recently. The last time he had heard the word with that tone had been a few months ago, when he heard Jack and Mark discussing one of Mark’s egos; Bim was the name, if he remembered correctly. Marvin felt cold suddenly. “He’s… he’s not coming back,” Marvin murmured, looking down, hands tightened around his cape that he had been fiddling with while the doctor had been looking at the mask.

“I’m sorry,” the doctor repeated. He gave the mask back to Marvin and left to inform the others.

Marvin trudged back to their room and collapsed on the bed. He sat there for a while, staring at the blue mask and the green lining. He pushed his own mask off his face and threw it, not really caring if it shattered. He could fix it later, he thought, as he laid on his side and curled up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you got my reference to a fic found on Tumblr in the last chapter, digital cookies to you.

The others had been informed about the situation, and it felt like Chase and Jack were walking on eggshells around him. Marvin didn’t like that. He pushed his mask back onto his face. He had fixed it a few days ago. A mask was the perfect thing to hide his face.

Faces were so expressive, he thought.

He was always fiddling with Jackieboy’s mask. He had tied it around his wrist, when he had had time to process what had happened. He was still upset about the situation. But that didn’t matter now.

He noticed Chase talking to him. Chase wasn’t as loud as he usually was around him, and he talked in one of those caring fatherly tones that Marvin knew was reserved for small children. It frustrated him to no end.

“You can talk to me like a normal person, you know!” Marvin finally snapped, his voice raising and becoming slightly high pitched with emotion. “I’m not some... fragile…” His voice had gotten rough with frustration, but Marvin wasn’t able to finish. He felt like crying again. He took a shaky breath.

Chase tried wrapping an arm around him, tried to give him the comforting contact of a hug, but Marvin shoved him away and walked off, still fiddling with the mask around his wrist. He headed to his room, but stopped in front of the door, his fists clenched. He hadn’t been in there since Jackieboy man had Faded. He was almost afraid to open the door. But he slowly pushed it open.

Everything was where he left it, bar a thin layer of dust everywhere. Marvin had always thought it odd, that this room tended to get dustier the fastest and the most. Jackieboy man before had offered the theory that it was the magic, making the air feel heavier, and therefore, the room dustier. Whatever that had meant.

Marvin made his way to the bed and sat down heavily. He brought a hand up to his neck; the dust was irritating his throat. He wasn’t sure if he was maybe just getting sick, and he wasn’t sure if he cared that much about getting sick.

Marvin laid down and covered himself with the blanket, burrowing and closing his eyes once he had put his mask aside. He felt a tickle in his throat, and half hoped it was just the dust, but also half hoped for something a little more sinister. He shook his head, closing his eyes tightly and falling asleep.

The information they had gathered about Fading was very little. All that was known about it was that it happened when the attention was lost; when the egos were forgotten.

They couldn’t rely on the internet, on fans anymore; Jack had stopped making videos and there was no other way to gain attention. The fans had also mostly moved on. It had been a few years since anyone’s last video. Jackieboy man Fading must have been inevitable. It would only be so long before the others followed suit.

It was within a few days that Marvin got sick. The apathy he had felt earlier about the situation was quickly replaced with panic. Jackieboy man had gotten sick before he Faded, he remembered. And there was something frightening about not existing anymore.

Marvin put a hand to his throat, before heading out to find Henrik. Maybe he could do something about it. Maybe it was something that could be caught, something they could prevent.

Maybe he was a bit too hopeful.

Henrik didn’t want to admit there wasn’t much he could do, so he worked with Marvin to find something that would work. Marvin kept having to cover his mouth, from coughing too frequently, and Henrik watched him with worry in his eyes.

The magician couldn’t help but feel tired. He struggled to keep his eyes open, and his voice often failed him. Was this what Jackieboy man had felt like? He hadn’t seen him in those last few days, busy in the library to find something that he had hoped would make him feel better. He felt pretty terrible for not being there for him. Guilt weighed on him as he ran a hand through his hair.

Marvin eventually announced that he was going to go sleep, and Henrik merely nodded, looking through the notes he had. It wasn’t much. There was so much they didn’t know about Fading.

Marvin padded over to his room and sat on the bed. He pushed his mask off his face, to calm down hopefully. Usually his cat mask helped calm him, but for this situation it seemed to serve to cause more panic. He tried to tell himself he’d be fine, closing his eyes tightly as he laid down to rest. “I’ll be fine,” he whispered.

When Henrik went to check up on him in the morning, both the cat mask and the blue mask lay there on the otherwise empty bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That other additional end note [if you see one] is not supposed to be there. I don't know how to get rid of it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was three and a half pages long (four pages with times new roman 12 pt) ... almost 2K words... this is not normal, but have all this anyway. Hope y'all like it. [also, ignore the end note. again.]

Antisepticeye had by this point, returned to the group. The others didn’t ask where he’d been, too caught up in the current situation. They did, however, catch him up, despite them thinking Anti would be pleased to hear the news. But he only seemed confused.

Despite their interactions in the past, Henrik kept an eye on Anti as well, telling him to tell him if he started to feel sick. Their numbers seemed to be dwindling, and that was worrying.

Chase was still well, but he had already started to panic. Fading had taken two egos already. Who would be next?

Chase grabbed his gun from his bedside table. he stared at it, for a moment, rubbing his thumb along the ridges, along the cold metal. If he was going to have to go, he’d leave on his own terms, he decided. This was going to be his decision to make, and he wouldn’t have to just disappear... randomly and with no warning.

He considered warning the others. Maybe they could say goodbye. He shook his head, looking back down at the gun and closing his eyes, nodding. He was set on it. He held the gun up to his temple. It was funny, he thought, how he had already tried this once. The feeling of cold metal against his skin…

Chase heard the door open, and he hoped that it was only Anti. He figured Anti wouldn’t mind. Anti had been meaning to kill them all, right? He was only making his job easier.

Chase started to put pressure on the trigger.

“Chase!” Henrik exclaimed, knocking the gun back at the last minute. A gunshot went off, and they both looked at the ceiling, where a bullet was lodged next to the lights.

Chase buried his face into his knees. “Please,” he mumbled. “I – I don’t want to fade.”

Anti had walked in when he heard the commotion and was watching this interaction, leaning against the door frame. He walked up to Chase and pointed his knife at Chase’s throat, the sharp point barely touching his neck. Chase made a quiet sound, looking up at Anti with wide, teary eyes.

“What are you doing?” Henrik demanded, trying to move Anti away, but Anti didn’t budge.

“Well, he wants to die, doesn’t he?” Anti questioned.

“Chase will not die,” Henrik insisted.

“No, but he’ll fade,” Anti replied, pulling his blade back and seeming irritable and glitchy. “So why not let him die?”

“Nobody is dying today!” Henrik snapped, getting agitated himself.

Chase stared at them for a moment, watching them argue. While they got into their disagreement, Chase left and hid. He didn’t mean for this to happen. He had meant for it to be quick, with no protests, or at least no chance for protests.

But he had failed. Again.

He stayed in bed the next couple of days, hiding underneath the blanket. Henrik checked up on him a couple of times a day, bringing him food, or just company. Chase kind of hated it. He glanced over at the bedside table when Henrik had been talking once. The good doctor had noticed, and went and took the gun away.

“If you cannot keep this responsibly, perhaps it is not best for you to have it in such close range,” Henrik simply said to the face Chase made at him.

It was eating him up inside. Anyone could be next, Chase thought. It could be him, or Henrik, or even Anti. He never thought he’d be worried for Anti, but here he was, hoping that he wasn’t getting sick.

Could Anti get sick? The thought made him curious. Anti was an ego like the rest of them, but he didn’t seem… exactly human. What was he? A demon? A computer glitch? Whatever he was, Chase was thankful for the distraction of the question.

Chase finally got out of bed after four days. He slowly made his way to Henrik’s office. he wasn’t quite sure what he was going there for; for a talk or to get back his gun. Henrik probably wasn’t going to give him back his gun, Chase figured by the time he ended up at Henrik’s door. He knocked.

Henrik opened the door. “Chase!” he said, but this exclamation was more positive than the last. “Come in, come in.” He opened the door slightly wider and moved to the side to allow Chase room to enter. “How… how are you feeling?” Henrik asked, sounding like he was trying to be gentle.

“Better, I guess,” Chase offered, but that was a lie.

Henrik frowned, but didn’t call him out on it. “That’s good, good,” he replied, nodding, but more to himself. “I’ve been thinking, Chase,” Henrik continued as he moved to sit back down behind his desk. “I’ve been looking into a cure. I have a few solutions to test out.”

“Yeah?” Chase asked, looking somewhat interested. He leaned forward, hands on the desk. “Maybe I can help,” he offered. “I… I want to help.”

Henrik nodded. “I should have them all ready and together by tomorrow. Will you be available then?”

“Yeah, dude,” Chase said, seeming a bit more like himself now. “Let’s do this. Tomorrow, of course.” He smiled just a little.

He wasn’t smiling the next day. He burrowed in bed, holding in a cough. No, this wouldn’t do. This was not good. He felt panic well up inside him again. No, this couldn’t be happening. A whine escaped his throat.

After what felt like hours, but was only thirty minutes, he crawled out of bed. He hoped the things Henrik had been planning to test would work. He quietly, quickly made his way to Henrik’s office, knocking first, and then entering.

“Chase, good, you’re here!” Henrik said, turning his chair away from the shelves on the wall to face the other ego. He noticed his facial expression, and felt his own smile drop. “Well,” he said, setting the vials up. “Let’s get to work, shall we?”

He offered Chase to choose one vial out of several. This testing would take several days, Henrik informed Chase. To best see if anything worked, and to not get things mixed up. If one did work, and they tried another before it went into effect, then they would have the problem of trying to figure out which antidote worked. They’d have to try one a day.

Chase shifted from foot to foot, impatient. He wanted a cure. He wanted to stay. He didn’t want to Fade. It sounded terrifying.

The thought of dying itself was terrifying, but the thought of not existing anymore? Would anyone remember him? Henrik, Anti, and Jack probably would, he figured, since they still remembered Marvin and Jackieboy man, but that wasn’t his main worry.

To just not exist anymore. One moment he could be breathing, feeling the fabric on his bed, or his shirt, or feeling the slightly stiff bill of his hat, and the next? No feeling, no breathing. He could simply cease to be.

He started to whine again.

Henrik looked over at him; he had been looking at the notes he had made during this experimenting. “We’ll find something,” he tried to assure him, not sounding very confident. He felt like he was lying.

“Okay, dude,” Chase responded quietly. He swirled this new solution around in the vial, staring at the blue liquid. He’d already tried three concoctions. Was this worth it? Would any of this work?

He shook his head to himself, not to deny his thoughts, but to clear his mind. He couldn’t let that get to him now. He had to focus. But the thoughts continued to plague him at night. His hand clutched around air, wishing he had his gun so he could just run away or stop it all. Leaving by his own hands would be better than waiting for himself to disappear.

He started fiddling with his hat more often. It was a habit of his; to mess around with his hat when he was nervous. He wasn’t sure when this habit had started, maybe in high school? But now he was always messing with it, always anxious, always nervous. Something shiny and green caught his eye, and he looked down.

There was green lining the inside of his hat. He felt panic like a wave, a merciless wave that would cover him and drown him. He almost didn’t notice the tears on his face, only taking note when they started to blur his vision. He roughly rubbed the tears away, ignoring the slight pain from pressing down too hard, and looked at the hat again, trying to keep his panic in check.

The green had not lined the whole hat, no. there was a small part left out, a small gap in the shape. He figured that when the green lining was done, he would be gone. He would Fade.

He jumped up and went to find Henrik. This was a new discovery. They hadn’t really had a chance to figure out the green lining, since the only times they had seen it were after Marvin and Jackieboy man had Faded.

“So we have a timer,” Henrik mused out loud, looking at the green. It could be passed for embroidery thread, and he almost wished it was, so that he’d be able to rip it out. But running his thumb along it he did not feel a thread.

“Yeah,” Chase said, his voice small and quiet. “A timer… and I don’t have much left.” He curled a hand, digging his fingernails into the palm of his hand, hoping the pain would make it less bad.

“I’m sorry, Chase,” was all Henrik could say. Chase didn’t reply, and Henrik did not continue. They both knew what it was for. Chase simply did not have much time left. He might not have any.

Chase took his hat back when it was handed to him, clutching onto it like a child would a teddy bear after a nightmare. “I’m scared, Henrik,” he said, his voice breaking. Henrik put a hand on his shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture.

Chase stayed close to Henrik the rest of the day, not really speaking for most of it. He offered to try another solution, and Henrik allowed him to, keeping a close eye on him and interviewing him about the side affects he was experiencing. Soon enough, the topic diverged from possible cures to life in general. He spoke a little about his children, and asked Henrik about his own. It became late, and Chase eventually stood on shaky legs to leave. He waved and made his way to the door, hand on the handle.

“Chase?” Henrik said, and Chase turned back to look at him. “Good night.”

Chase didn’t say anything for a moment, trying to get a grip. “Good night,” he whispered, opening the door and slipping out.

In the morning, Henrik picked up the hat and added it with the masks.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Henrik's turn! Not very great because I still have no clue how to edit, but here you go anyway.

Henrik spent a few days in the office, studying the items of his former fellow egos. It was hardly studying, however, he just kept them nearby and often stared at the objects forlornly. Occasionally he’d turn an object over and run his thumb along the green lining.

He didn’t leave his office in the few days he spent there. He didn’t leave to eat, or get anything to drink, or sleep. Egos were a bit sturdier than normal humans in the regard that they lasted longer without sleep, water, or any food.

He still grew weak. Egos were sturdier, yes, but things would catch up to them eventually, one way or another. He was unable to stand, so he just sunk into his chair, still staring at the former egos’ objects.

He was dozing when the door slammed open and a humming noise fills the air. He jolted, his eyes opening with speed that wasn’t there before. He blinked a few times when Anti filled his vision. He tried gathering the strength to get up, but despite his attempts he couldn’t move.

Anti grabbed the doctor by his arm and started pulling him along, and Henrik stumbled along, not saying a word. They arrived at the door of the doctor’s bedroom. “You’re u̕sȩl̛e̡ss if you can’t function,” Anti grumbled, opening the door. “Go to sleep.”

Henrik was too exhausted to argue. He got into bed, not bothering to even take off his coat and glasses. He fell into a dreamless sleep.

When he woke up, he made his way to the kitchen to grab some crackers to snack on, and coffee. It had been a while since he’d had coffee. He stared off into space as he nursed his cup of coffee, mind blank. He tried to keep it that way. But eventually he put his cup down in the sink and made his way back to his office.

He sat down in his chair once more, turning to look at the masks and the hat. He shook his head and turned away, towards his desk, and started to tidy up. If he needed one thing, it was a clean desk to not impede any thoughts. The clutter was a lot, so it took him a little over an hour.

Typically, he left it cluttered; not bothering to make sure he had everything organized. To him, it seemed a bit pointless, as the desk would once again be cluttered after he cleaned it. But he needed something to distract himself, and cleaning was the best and most productive way to do that.

It wasn’t until he finally sat back down that he realized he felt uncomfortably warm. His eyes burned, and he placed a hand on his cheek, and then forehead. He was burning up.

He wasn’t sure he even wanted to find a cure at the point, since it was only him and Anti left. Still, it could give him something to try, something to do. So he once again looked at his notes, moving Marvin’s and Jackieboy man’s masks, and Chase’s hat, aside. He couldn’t think about that now.

He was lonely. He was alone. Anti was off doing whatever he usually did these days, and no other egos even existed anymore. The feelings of loneliness and missing Chase, Marvin, and Jackieboy man exacerbated his depression.

He later started to cough, and it was difficult to concentrate with a burning throat, in addition to his fever. But still he continued. Nothing mattered anymore, except the cure. If he could just find the cure… if he could just…

But it still wouldn’t matter. If he found the cure, it would still be just him and Anti. Finding the cure wouldn’t bring the others back. The thought weighed him down. He stared at the needle he held in his shaking hands. It wouldn’t be worth it.

But still he put that needle in his skin, injecting the questionable solution into his bloodstream. He set the needle down, and moved his chair back to his desk, ready to document results.

After a few minutes passed, he realized that he felt worse. His hands were shaking more, and he felt nauseous. He picked up a pen to write and had trouble doing even that. He let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He rested his forehead on the cool metal of the desk, closing his eyes.

When he opened them it was dark. Night had fallen, it seemed, and he had missed a large chunk of time. time that could have been spent researching, that could have been spent getting closer to a cure. A cure, he realized, gave him purpose. With the other egos gone, he had felt he lost that sense of purpose. But this could work, he supposed.

He sat there for a few moments, trying to gather his thoughts and figure out what to do next. The fever made a buzzing sound in his head, making it difficult to concentrate. He shook his head, deciding he’d be unable to really do much more, and started looking around. He shuffled through his papers, to find his ‘100% Real Doctor’ certificate. He scanned the paper, frowning and shaking his head. Then he looked at his coat, and then his cap, and then his masks.

Finally he took the stethoscope from around his neck and peered closely. There. There was green. It was difficult to make out, and squinting didn’t help his headache, but he’d found his timer. It looked like he had at least a few days.

He once again placed his head on the desk. The buzzing in his head was different now. It instead was in the room, but Henrik could not find the motivation to get up and look at Anti. Anti once again grabbed the doctor’s arm and led him along, with Henrik complying this time. Anti glitched momentarily, and Henrik’s hand jerked away without thought. It felt like a shock. Like touching an old television screen and getting zapped.

Henrik slowly lowered his hand again, allowing Anti to continue dragging him down the hallway. This was becoming a habit, of some sorts. Every three days, like clockwork, Anti appeared in his office to force him to go to bed. He would often mutter that Henrik would be “useless” if not properly taking care of himself, but in Henrik’s sleep-deprived state of mind, he wondered if the glitch cared.

He wasn’t sure what was keeping him here for so long. He had theorized, back when the other egos were alive, that they all represented something within their creator. The group had talked about it, and it was decided by Marvin and Jackieboy man that Henrik was determination. Perhaps this was what kept him here for much longer than the others. He suddenly wished he wasn’t determination.

He kept trying different possible cures as the days went by. But nothing seemed to work. They either had a bad reaction or no reaction at all. He felt like he should give up. but if he gave up, he’d be left with nothing but his thoughts.

The next time Anti came to take him to his room, he resisted. He felt terrible, so he definitely did need to rest, but he refused. He didn’t see the point. He yanked his arm away from Anti, causing the other to frown somewhat. So Anti grabbed his arm again.

“No,” Henrik muttered, his first word in weeks. He tugged weakly at his arm, to free himself of Anti’s grasp.

Anti, decidedly irritated with Henrik’s behavior, grabbed him by the collar of the doctor’s lab coat, and Henrik was decidedly to weak to do anything about it. He started coughing, though not for that reason.

Anti started to say something, most likely he was going to repeat what he’d said before; that Henrik was useless if he wasn’t taking care of himself. But he noticed that he was considerably paler than he had been a few moments ago.

Henrik looked down at own hands. They looked almost translucent. He looked back up, fear apparent in his tired eyes.

Henrik had liked to believe that he was above the very human fear of death. There had been countless times where Henrik had experienced a near-death experience, without it negatively affecting his mood. Countless times where he had imagined his own death, when the other egos were out doing their own thing, and the thoughts became too much. But this was nothing compared to that.

Fingers wrapped around Anti’s wrist, mostly for something to grab onto. For something to feel. Because the ability to do that would be gone very soon. And Henrik was reluctant for that to happen.

Very soon, Anti was left with nothing but the stethoscope that had been around the doctor’s neck.

He allowed a wave of panic to wash over him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter! Not as great and emotional as I wanted it to be, but that's okay! This is actually the first multi-chaptered thing I've ever finished. I'm kinda proud. I could never finish those.

Panic and fear weren’t emotions Antisepticeye often felt. In fact, it was those emotions and feelings he liked to instill in others. So, used to being the predator, he hated feeling like prey. He felt like he had been backed into a corner, and by something he couldn’t even attack back.

He dropped the stethoscope onto the floor and stepped away from it. His grip on the handle of the knife tightened, his form glitching erratically. He glanced around himself frantically before glitching away.

It was dark and the television nearby flickered, soft static sounds coming from it as it lit the room. Anti hadn’t realized how late it really was. He looked behind himself; Jack and Signe were asleep on the couch, cuddled together under a soft-looking blanket. It looked like they had fallen asleep during a movie night.

Anti’s form flickered again and he sighed, running a hand through his dark green hair and getting his fingers caught in it. He growled and went up to the attic, to wait and pace. Once up there, after pacing for several minutes, he threw his knife at the wall. He continued to pace, leaving it imbedded in the wood and not aware that he had woken one of the two below.

“Anti..?” a soft, tired voice came from the direction of the ladder leading down. Anti stopped his pacing and looked up to see Signe, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

He removed his knife from the wall, keeping a tight grip on it as they stared at each other, not speaking for a good few minutes. After a while he looked down, running his finger along the sharp edge of the knife.

Signe made a sound and a gesture, and so Anti followed her down from the attic. Jack was still asleep on the couch, but the television was now turned off, Anti observed as he followed Signe into the kitchen.

He was silent as he watched Signe move around the kitchen, grabbing some packets from the kitchen and taking milk out of the fridge. She hummed a song softly to herself as she poured the milk into a kettle and placed it on the stove, standing on her tiptoes to get some mugs from a top cupboard.

When the milk had warmed up enough, she poured the liquid into the mugs and emptied the hot chocolate packets in with it, stirring and then adding two big marshmallows. She handed Anti one of the mugs, bringing her own to her lips.

Anti still said nothing, staring down at the mug she had handed him before taking a sip with a soft sigh.

“Is Henrik… gone now?” Signe finally asked, meeting his eyes. He looked away with a nod, glitching again. “Do you want to talk about it?” A shake of his head. “Okay.” More silence as they continued to sip on their respective hot chocolates. “I’ll tell Jack when he wakes up, okay?” Signe finally said, placing her mug in the sink when she was done. “Try to get some rest.” She gently pat his arm, not flinching when he glitched again, and went back to the couch.

Anti pursed his lips and set his own mug down. He went back up to the attic, making sure not to pace too loudly this time.

When Jack woke, he approached Anti and they talked. The conversation ended with Anti swinging his knife around and Jack backing out of the room with his hands held up in defense. Anti stabbed the wall again, making a high pitched static sound that hurt Jack’s ears.

“There’s nothing we can do,” Jack said when Anti had finally calmed down. “Putting up a video wouldn’t give you the attention and energy you need to stay.”

Anti muttered something that sounded like begging, but Jack could only shake his head. “There’s nothing we can do,” Jack repeated. “I’m sorry, Anti.”

Anti spent his days pacing up in the attic, carving things into the wood walls and occasionally throwing his knife at the walls. He didn’t sleep much, unable to do so in the situation he was in. He glanced over when he heard a knock, and Signe stepped in with a mug of hot chocolate in her hands. Instead of saying anything to her, Anti continued his pacing, running a hand through his messy hair.

“Hey,” Signe finally said, when Anti paused his steps for just a moment. He turned to her. She offered him the mug, which he took and sipped. “How’re you feeling?”

Anti only made a sound at the back of his throat, and Signe nodded. She watched him carve a line into the floor and sat down next to him. “The last one…,” he muttered, more to himself. He was the last ego, and that freaked him out more than he felt it should. He felt panic wash over him again, and he merely dropped his mug. Signe noticed and held it for him, taking note of his shaking and glitching hands.

“Sean and I are going on a trip,” Signe finally said, setting the mug down on the floor. “We leave tomorrow night. Do you think you’ll be okay here all by yourself?”

“No,” Anti muttered, and Signe bit her lip.

“Do you want to talk to Jack before we go?”

“No,” Anti replied, more of a snap this time, his voice sharp and quick.

Signe gave a soft hum. “Okay,” she said. “We’ll be back within a week.”

Anti only nodded, and Signe sighed, going back downstairs and taking the nearly empty mug with her. He went back to pacing.

It was two days before he started to cough and glitch out. He gripped his knife tightly, but refused to look at it. He once again ran his fingers along the edges, pressing down and allowing it to cut into his fingers. He looked down at his hands. Surprisingly, he wasn’t bleeding. His hands did look slightly paler than they had when he first arrived, and he growled, resuming his pacing.

He remembered something that Henrik had said to Chase, a few days before Chase had Faded. He’d said that they couldn’t quite blame Jack. It wasn’t as if Jack was doing this purposely. It was something that none of them had knew or realized that would happen at the time of their creation.

Anti stabbed the wooden wall again, and he caught sight of the green color on the knife. He quickly dropped it, and the knife fell to the floor at his feet. He stared down at it for a few minutes before picking it up and placing it up on a shelf.

Jack and Signe were coming back in five days. He was sure that he could last until then.

The next day he wasn’t doing any better. His form flickered more often, and he found himself sitting down more often. Panic overtook him often. He hated this.

He hated feeling so weak. he hated the idea of it. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way.

He went downstairs to distract himself with some television. But when he turned the television on, the screen went staticky. He growled as the white noise filled the air, throwing the remote he had grabbed at the screen, surprising himself when it shattered. He almost felt guilty.

And then he felt panic and anger return. He didn’t care what Henrik said; he was still angry with Jack. He felt that he didn’t bother to care. Did he not care that the others had Faded? Did he not care that Anti was the only one left?

His form glitched more violently. What was this feeling? He felt like his chest was being constricted. It became difficult to breathe and hold a solid form. What was this?

He sank to the floor, grabbing at his hair and head, letting out another growl, before going silent. He stayed sitting on the floor, staring at a random spot on the floor, his form still glitching and his eyes getting blurry.

He pushed himself up off the floor when he started to cough again. He ran back up to the attic and grabbed his knife, forcing himself to look at it. He watched his fingers trace the green that had started to line the edge.

Anti felt he couldn’t do this. He just couldn’t. he gripped the knife tightly in his hand again, allowing the edge to dig into his fingers again. He started to understand how Chase had felt. And he thought it was ridiculous. He understood, but still thought it was ridiculous.

He rubbed at his eyes. Ridiculous, he repeated in his head.

It was three more days before he allowed himself to look at the knife again. Jack and Signe would be back in two more days. He flung his knife away, like a reflex. After another moment he stood and picked it up again. He wouldn’t last that long, would he?

The green was almost done lining the shape.

He felt his heartrate pick up again. His eyes got blurry again. His form was glitching terribly, even worse than before, which he hadn’t even been aware was possible.

He backed himself into a corner, staying in that small space, feeling trapped both physically and not. He shook his head, letting his tears fall. It almost shocked him enough to stop himself. He touched his cheeks, feeling the wetness of the tears. He’d never let himself cry before.

But it wasn’t like he would be able to do it ever again, was it?

He sat on the floor in the corner, his knees close to his face and arms around his legs. He closed his eyes. He opened them for another moment, before placing his knife in front of him. He looked at his hands again. They were covered in glitches, color pale and dull.

He closed his eyes again. He hoped it wasn’t painful.


End file.
